Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
by dontgiveahoot
Summary: Ron and Harry learn reason #436 why making out during detention is a Bad Idea. The hard way.


GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES.

Disclaimers: JK Rowling created the characters, and thus owns them. Let us all pause to give our daily thanks to She Who Must Not Be Ignored! That said, I'm just borrowing them for a completely unpaid run in the park. I will put them back when I finish, all nice and clean. Well... maybe a bit stickier than when they started, but still...

Rating: R for naughty situations, lousy 2:00 am humour, and slash (SLASH, did you see that?) In case you missed it, here it is again: SLASH! All those who fear/hate/don't enjoy slash would probably be happier clicking on the "back" button and reading another fic.

Pairing: Harry/Ron

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"Mmmm... what are you - ah! Ron! ...Nnnh... no, we can't, not - {gasp} here..."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Ron grinned wickedly as he started to kiss down his boyfriend's neck, slowly undoing his robes as he did so. "If Snape's mean enough to give us both detention, bloody-minded enough to make us clean out all the cauldrons, and then totally stupid enough to 'leave us to it', as he said himself, then he deserves every unscrubbed cauldron he gets." 

"But Ron," Harry protested, "It's the _dungeons_! You know, those dark, cold, smelly and distinctly un-sexy rooms where we boil stuff in a pot for hours and come up with nothing useful?"

Ron was undeterred by this, as logical as it may be. This was probably because a large portion of his capacity for rational judgement had relocated itself in his body as a large portion of male teenage hormones. For a few hours tonight, he was alone with his beautiful boyfriend rather than being stuck in a dorm room with three other sleeping people to be considerate of, and he was very horny. "Harry?"

"What?"

"I love you, you stupid git, but you talk too damn much." Grinning wickedly, he continued exploring Harry's pale throat with his mouth, knowing full well that it was something that the shorter boy could never resist for long. And when he found the pulse that throbbed gently against the milky skin, kneading at it very gently with his teeth, he knew he had Harry exactly where he wanted him, could hear the surrender to passion in his moan. "God... you're really hot, love, you know that?"

In answer, Harry pulled gently but firmly at the red tresses, raising Ron's face to his own and allowing him a brief glimpse of burning emerald eyes before capturing his mouth in a fiercely desperate kiss. "So are you," he muttered against his lover's hungry mouth, before allowing his hands to wander over Ron's back, one cupped hand coming up to tenderly cradle the beloved fiery head, the other sliding down to caress another curve, much less innocently. With a hungry groan, Ron pushed Harry backwards a few steps until he was leaning against the lectern at the front of the classroom, tugging more insistently at those annoying robes that were keeping him from Harry's sweet skin.

"It seems that I have discovered the reason the two of you seem to delight in earning yourselves detention. I trust that you're both enjoying it?" The dry, all-too-familiar voice pierced the moment like a skewer and brought them crashing back down to reality. Horrified, the pair stared; Harry struck mute with shock and embarrassment while Ron blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, bloody HELL!"

"An accurate assessment of your situation, Mister Weasley. Not only have you not completed the assigned detention, but you are pursuing non-curricular activities within a classroom - **_my_** classroom - and are both out of bed after curfew. Which is, as you know, against the rules if you are not performing a detention. And what you were performing was not detention, now was it, Mister Potter?" Snape's smirk was unbearable to the two Gryffindors as he fixed his gaze on Harry's face, not looking away for an instant, mocking black eyes burning into mortified emerald. Harry wanted to sink through the floor. Ron swallowed in combined humiliation and anger. 

"We... we're sorry Professor -"

"Oh, I'm certain you are. Now. And you **_will_** be, later." A pause, and then a most unexpected thing happened. 

Snape laughed.

It was not a loud laugh, but it was definitely a laugh - a rich chuckle that continued on for several seconds. As the two boys stared at their Potions professor shaking with the effort of regaining his control, they eyed each other warily. "Has he gone nuts?" Ron whispered to Harry, who shook his head and shrugged in utter confusion.

"However," Snape continued, as he composed himself, "as it seems that you cannot be trusted to work without supervision, I will have to watch over you as you clean out the cauldrons. And since it is quite late, I do not feel any inclination to stay up later so that you can complete the punishment and get out of your obligation. We will have to delay this detention until tomorrow afternoon. Unfortunately, this will mean you will have to cancel any plans you had regarding Hogsmeade, but then again, perhaps you were looking forward to staying behind in any case, hmm?"

Harry flushed angrily at the implication. "With all due respect, sir," he grated out from between clenched teeth, "that's none of your business."

"On the contrary, Mister Potter. When you decided to turn my classroom into a little rendezvous point, YOU made it my business. Now return to your dorm, and report to me at one thirty PM tomorrow, after lunch."

Still scarlet, but glaring daggers at Snape, Ron and Harry made their way towards the door. 

"Oh, and twenty points from Gryffindor."

Bugger. He remembered that bit too.

Snape shook his head as he watched their retreating backs. "It runs in the family, obviously... I wonder if it's genetic?" he mused quietly to himself. "Right from first year, they were practically attached at the hip - and now, their son is just the same." He remembered it well - his friend Lily dating that arrogant Gryffindor chaser...

"It seems that gentlemen prefer blondes... but Potters prefer redheads."

END. 

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